State of Union revisited
by Makone
Summary: GXV :AU Instead of adding a new chapter after all these months, I decided to rewrite the whole thing. Tsch, go figure...


Hola!

This is going to be a rehashing of SoU. I have had it up for a while and stopped updating about a year ago. I decided to _completely_ revamp it and give it a deeper/darker vibe with more believable back story. Originally the story was, to me, rather light-hearted, but that's going down the 'nice try' drain. I'm hoping to add more intriguing layers to make this story multi-dimensional, weaving the past and present together to create stronger characters. That is, of course, all speculation. I also took tips given by reviewers of the previous version and changed whatever seemed to be off. So, overall, I'm giving it the old college try and hoping this second time around this story will be even better. I haven't written anything but lab memos for the past year, so we'll see how this turns out.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy SoU 2nd edition[GxV

**State of Union**

"_About the time of the end, a body of men will be raised up who will turn their attention to the prophecies in the midst of clamor and opposition; for as the lightning comes out of the east, and shines even unto the west, you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. Nation will rise against __nation,__ and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes, floods and disease. All of __these are the beginning of the B__irth. There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. Nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. Men will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming upon the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken, and the end will be near. _

_So shall be the coming of the D__ivine-_

_So shall be the __death__ of Man."_

It reminded him of Capri, having grown up on Earth. The architecture held a quaint renaissance charm; well kept but cluttered homes fitting snugly amidst mazes of archways and stairs. The coastal city overflowed across the peninsula, bursting at the seams of the ocean. Homes clamored atop each other, scaling the lush hillsides, vying for the summit.

The warm, salty breeze hung in his nose and clung to his skin.

The colorful adobe buildings lined the brick road, expressing themselves through bright red doors and waving ocean-blue fabrics. The gold and silver of family emblems reflected the rising sun from atop their perches, causing the Mediterranean-esque city to sparkle like the stars.

People bustled in the streets making it difficult for him to move quickly. Fishermen carried their catch in baskets attached to poles draped across their laboring shoulders. Women urged shy children along the venders. Shopkeepers' goods shrouded the roads with exotic sights and smells as their voices echoed bargains into the new dawn. He appreciated the opportunity for procrastination.

Further on down the dusty brick road sat the Senate Forum. At the far end of the forum stood the Senate house which was distinguishable by the wide staircase circumscribing a life-size statue of Emperor Vespasian. It situated the Emperor into the stately pose of a diplomat and orator, projecting an imposing air of intelligence across his war torn face. Whether it was deliberate or not, Vespasian's face solemnly placed its vision upon the ornate Temple of Domitian not far to his right, as if challenging the temple of his God.

The Temple was deftly crafted with white marble imported from across the ocean. Immense columns surrounded a beautifully kept courtyard that possessed rare and exotic vegetation, as an ostentatious fountain shot spring water into the bright morning. Dark ivy clung to window-frames and hung lazily from the royal blue roof. Cupolas spiked randomly yet in a picturesque manner from the center of the sloping roof. Its beauty was difficult to overlook-unless your eyes happened upon the royal palace sprawling in the distance. He stopped in the street and pensively set his gaze to the highest hill.

To the untrained eye, this was paradise.

Fate had returned him to this vibrant city of secrets. He chuckled and veered off the path, buying a ripe fruit from the vendor.

As the luscious juices caressed his tongue, he thought it was incredible how appearances could be so deceiving.

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The journey to Vespasian's palace was arduous.

The path itself was beautiful; a winding road lined with lush trees in full bloom. The oceanic undulations of long blue-grass fields following the expert guidance of the wind were relaxing and hypnotic. Occasional colonies of white buttercups mingled with the smell of the ocean on the horizon.

The path sloped gently to his destination, urging one to follow with willing and able feet.

Nevertheless, for him it was grueling. His feet moved slowly, reluctantly stepping through a thick quicksand created by the unintentional vomiting of unwanted memories. With each scuffled step his soul became heavier. His breath was shallow. His shoulders slumped, chest collapsed, head bowed.

He stopped and stared at the ground, unable to look forward any longer. He didn't think that after all of this time it would still be so difficult. Perhaps overcoming the past was timeless.

The last time he had walked this road he had vowed to never walk it again. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the nagging shame tugging the back of his head.

To calm himself, he looked to the sky. A deep inhale captured the scent of the salty blue-grass and unlocked what should have remained hidden. He squeezed his eyed shut and kept on walking.

_The night was dark. The stars reflected the violence of the ocean, mimicking the turbulence of his spirit. He felt guilty to walk this road adorned with serene beauty, in the wake of such stark failure._

_Blood stained armor constricted his ragged breathing. He was injured, but there was no time for treatment. The Order was waiting for word of the mission. They waited to hear of success. They waited to hear of glory from the mouth of the crowned Prince. They waited patiently atop the hill._

_He looked ahead and saw the lights of the palace glowing expectantly, like fires fresh from Hell. __The estate gates loomed not far away, open and ready to devour him whole.__ With each step he brought himself closer to the inevitable._

_The night was calm, but far below, the ocean churned with contempt._

"Name please?"

He shook his head, dispelling the vision of that night. An armed Centurion stood in the guard station holding the parchment records for the palace. The Centurion looked at him impatiently, quill at the ready.

The gates were as tall as he remembered. They imposed upon one's personal space due to their sheer height and sizeable girth. Just as overwhelming, the palace walls spread to both sides, interrupting the flowing current of the blue-grass fields. They stood, alien to the landscape, opposing the ebb of nature, continuing as far as the eye could see. He turned and looked at the Centurion.

"Your name, Sir," the Centurion repeated.

"I heard you the first time," he smoothly retorted. He paused, returning his gaze to the gate. To walk through those gates again would be an act of treason, but considering the circumstances, that was inconsequential.

"Son Gohan. My name is Son Gohan."

The quill fell from the Centurion's hand.

_Officers emerged from the palace as they saw him struggle through the gate, dripping with blood and determination. They ran to his side like vultures, offering their insincere aid. He shrugged them all away like pests._

_After tonight, he would lose __all of his__ bestowed Honor. He wished to walk on his own two feet to keep the last of his dignity for these final precious moments._

_They all blurted questions, but he answered none of them. Their voices followed him, blurring into an onslaught of white noise, nagging and imploring, echoing in the cavers of his throbbing skull. In his memory they had no faces, as if they were demon spawns of vexation sent to pull him from his path; as if they were his doubt incarnate. Their movements blended as they clashed around him, shouting, causing him to hesitate. They were dark and obscure, impeding his destination._

_Through the demons he saw the open doorway to the Atrium. It was a portal, glowing red, hell fires warning him not to enter and instead turn and run from what awaited him. But he was no coward. He would face them as a man._

_Without wavering, he lifted his chin and walked into the palace, leaving the __vulturous__ doubts behind. _

The Atrium was as he remembered. Columns acted as barriers, having no structural purpose, creating the boundary of the inner foyer. The salty breeze wound through the giant colonnades and across the open marble floor. The sun peaked through rippling sheets of colorful, dancing fabric overhead. Flowers hung lazily in the breeze, swaying in a melodic rhythm with one another. A fresh spring emerged from the center of the marble platform, bubbling and spurting its morning song.

The outdoor entranceway to the palace had not changed nearly as much as the proud man standing at the far end.

Vespasian stood hesitantly, his sun-dried face showing no emotion. His eyes were tired, his hair was graying, his right shoulder drooped. He wore the Imperial Crest on the breastplate of his ornate armor, displaying it with strength, despite his increasing age.

Their eyes locked from across the Atrium. Vespasian's grizzled jaw tightened. With lithe grace he crossed the distance; slowly, deliberately, methodically, stopping beside Gohan. The Emperor studied him with expert eyes and said nothing, waiting.

_They stood around the natural spring, conversing quietly amidst the night, all dressed for battle in their ornate armor and robes. Silence immediately overtook them as they felt his presence. The light from the torches deepened the shadows on their faces, making them look like harbingers of Fate. __They turned and stared, looking first at his face, then his blood drenched armor, then his soul. Frowns of expectation lined their gaunt faces._

_His wished to speak, but could not find the conviction to open his mouth._

_His father stepped forward, tall and imposing with his dark eyes. Those eyes, so quick to show joy and kindness, could not hide the sadness that hid in the dark shadows. No longer able to look into his father's eyes, he bowed his head, feeling a strong hand clasp his shoulder. _

_The others waited, exchanging cautious glances behind the light of the dancing flames. _

_Vespasian and __Vegeta__ stood close, speaking to one another, their quick whispers infecting the wind. Two more waited, Senators by distinction, ghosts by merit. Cassius was the first to speak, his loud proclamation disturbing the hiss of the dark._

_"Give us word," the Senator demanded impatiently. Vespasian and __Vegeta's__ whispers sharply died. The crackling of the flames filled the night. _

_Looking into his father's eyes, he could not respond. The weight of his father's hand on his shoulder was crushing him._

_"Do you have her, __Gohan__?" Cassius implored again, his voice echoing with the flames._

_The worry in his father's eyes was eating at his heart. He tried to breathe, but the salty air made him nauseous._

_ "__Gohan__, do you have __th__-"_

_"Give him time," his father growled, turning to glare at the Senator."Give him time."_

_A second booming voice joined the night as __Scaurus__ urged, "We must know her fate. Do you have the girl, __Gohan__?"_

_His father turned back, looking desperately into his eyes. "What happened, __Gohan__?" he whispered. "What happened out there?"_

_"I…" __All darks __faces__ were staring, hanging by his word._

_He betrayed his father's trust, and he knew he had to pay dearly for such a mistake. _

_"__I failed you, father.__ The battle was lost.__ She is gone."_

_His father's head collapsed, his hand went limp on his shoulder. __Gohan__ tried to stand tall under __the blanket of __his father's agony._

"I told you to never return," Vespasian's gruff voice muttered.

Gohan stood silent, allowing the man a moment to think.

"You are a dead man, Gohan. I attended your funeral. Your mother wept on my shoulder."

"I have come to repay my debt to you," Gohan proclaimed.

Vespasian turned his back and began to slowly walk away. "Dead men have no debts."

"I found her," Gohan whispered. Vespasian's steps halted. His back went stiff. He turned and incredulously glared at Gohan. "I founder her. She's waiting."

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Peace out,

Makone


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